


The Ghosts of Our Past, Present, and Future

by HappyCamper27



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drabble Collection, Gen, Ghost Type Specialist Harry, Non-Chronological, Occasional Dark Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCamper27/pseuds/HappyCamper27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghosts haunt even the best of us; but for Haris, they dog his every step, whispering in his ears of lies and pain and deceit. But that's alright--he has others, who will follow him to the end of the earth. And that makes it alright. Somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Haris didn’t really remember anything before Grandmother and Phoebe had found him—all he could remember was a huge shadow, yelling, and _pain_ , so much _pain_ , and then white, just white ( _heliedliedlied_ )He didn’t really mind though, since it brought him to Grandmother and Phoebe, and to Val.

He glanced at Val, who sat beside him, her glowy red-and-yellow eyes focused down on the abandoned ruins below. He smiled at her, green eyes flashing with an unearthly light in the rising sun as he stood.

“Well? Shall we go?” he asked, turning his gaze to the ruins below.

The Mismagius looked up at him and snickered, smoothly starting down the steep incline, floating gracefully. Haris rolled his eyes.

“Sure, start without me, Val. Way to be impatient!” he laughed, following after his long-time partner and companion easily.

…He didn’t really mind losing his memories of _before (lieslieslies)_. He had Grandmother and Phoebe, and Val and the rest of his Pokémon.

And that was more than enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Haris blinked at the small, candle-like Pokémon that sat in front of him, smiling up at him innocently with it’s wide yellow eyes and brilliant purple flame flickering and twirling hypnotically.

It was a Litwick.

It giggled at him, hopping around him without a sound, it’s soul and energy singing in his mind, twirling and leaping with mischief and curiosity.

He didn’t question the songs he heard—he had _always_ heard them, from _everyone_ and _everything_. It wasn’t until he met Val, and Grandmother’s Haunter, Murk, that he had realized that their songs—Val’s and Murk’s—were louder in his ears, sharp and clear above the soft, vague tones of Grandmother’s and Phoebe’s.

He could always hear the songs, but now…

…all he could hear was the songs of the Litwick and the other Ghost types.

It was a welcome relief for him; the songs clued him in to others’ emotions, but they could be very overwhelming, picking him up and sweeping him along in a torrent of _ragefurygriefpainfearhappiness_ until all that he could do was cling onto his mind and try not to drown in the floods.

“Would you like to come with me?” he asked softly, pulling out a Pokéball and holding it out to the Litwick. It’s song lifted, washing him in the sweet, lilting sounds of _curioushappyacceptance_ before the Litwick pushed forward, letting himself be caught in the red light of the Pokéball. It shook; once, twice, thrice, and Haris released his newly caught Litwick, who smiled up at him mischievously, his flame burning hotter and brighter.

“How does the name ‘Dusk’ sound to you?” he asked, crouching down. Another wash of _happyacceptance_ flowed over him, and he smiled. “Welcome to the family, Dusk,” he said, standing up and holding his arms open for the small Pokémon. Dusk leapt into his arms, glowing brighter and brighter.

As they walked home, back up the steep slopes of Mount Pyre, the eleven-year-old boy wondered what Grandmother and Phoebe would say when they saw Dusk. Hadn’t Grandmother said something about Litwicks, their evolutionary line, life force, and _be careful_?

Oh well.

He had Dusk now, and he wasn’t going to let him go.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t until Haris was fifteen that Grandmother let him leave Mount Pyre for the first time; it was to _truly_ start his Journey that he had _actually_ started when he was eleven. She had been adamant that he train on the mountain first, communing with the Ghosts and battling visiting Trainers for experience before he headed out for his first Gym battle.

It had taken him _four years_ before Grandmother had been satisfied. Grandfather had approved, saying that it was only right that their grandchild stay true to tradition.

But now he was leaving the majestic, towering burial ground, and he felt something in him pang horribly at the thought. It was a quiet place, for people were hushed there out of respect for the dead. But it was peaceful, and filled with a strong spiritual energy that Haris found himself sorely missing as he forged his way through the tall grass of Route 120, scowling at the clouds that poured rain from above.

Spook, however, seemed to love the rain, laughing his rasping laugh as he floated alongside Val. The Duskull retreated, however, as the irritated Misdreavus hissed at him, eyes glowing sharply. Dusk was in his Pokéball, avoiding the rain religiously; the Fire and Ghost dual type hated the rain with a passion.

Haris shook his head as the two fought, Spook pushing Val before retreating as she snarled at him, more than willing to lay down a beating if the Duskull didn’t back off.

It was a game, Haris knew, that they had been playing for years, ever since he had first caught the canny Pokémon and introduced him to Val. Spook pushed, Val pushed back; a game of cat and mouse, of hide and seek, and of tug-of-war, all squashed into a pot and stewed together with the two’s personalities.

Sometimes the results were amusing, sometimes not.

But Haris didn’t mind—after all, they were finally on their way to Fortree City, to battle Winona and gain the Feather Badge before swooping down and across the channel of Route 118 into Mauville, and circling around to Rustboro, Petalburg, and Dewford before setting out for Mossdeep and finally for Sootopolis.

This was just the first step of their Journey.

It was time to put his best foot forward.


	4. Chapter 4

It was while Haris was visiting Sootopolis that it happened. One moment, he had been talking with Wallace, proposing a venture into the Cave of Origin, where he could feel an incredible wellspring of spiritual energy, and the next he had felt a tugging sensation behind his navel and multicolor light had flared around him, spinning and pulsing, leaving him feeling quite sick before he had slammed into hard stone.

It wasn’t a feeling he was unfamiliar with—he explored old ruins for a living alongside being a fairly well known Ghost type Specialist Trainer, and sometimes retrieving ancient artifacts wasn’t as safe as his family might prefer.

The scene that greeted him as he sat up, however, was _certainly_ unfamiliar. He sat in the middle of a dark hall that had arching ceilings with—was that an illusion of the _night sky_? Oh, he _had_ to learn how they had done that; it would make being in the cities for work so much easier!

He shook his head, running a tanned and scarred hand through his messy hair as he rolled into a crouch, eyeing the people seated around him. They were lined up at tables, dressed in ridiculously archaic robes—as far as he knew, those had only been worn in the older ages of Kalos, and that was a _very_ long time ago. Even then, they hadn’t been _that_ popular.

He stood, and turned around as something was called in an unfamiliar language.

“ _Harry Potter?”_

It was a strange language, sounding very similar to Unovan, but seeming to share a few roots with Kalosian as well. It’s sounds were somewhat slurred, even more so than the Unovan dialect he was familiar with, and he cocked his head as whispers rippled through the throng of people even as his eyes fixed upon the tall goblet that stood in front of him, flickering with red and blue fire. It’s song thrummed in his head, whispering of _warmthglorystrengthpride_ and he shook his head, turning his eyes to the old man who stood to the side, reaching out for him.

Haris took a step back, deftly avoiding the outstretched hand, green eyes flaring with suspicion as the old man’s muted song sang with _paingriefdisbeliefhope_.

“Who are you?” he asked sharply, voice rasping from his throat due to his habit of remaining silent for weeks upon end while he was exploring ruins. “Where am I?”

The old man seemed to reach an epiphany, and withdrew a stick from his robes, and pointed it at Haris before saying something as he waved it. Abruptly, the unintelligible mutterings resounding through the hall morphed into something he could understand, almost like it was being put through a filter of his native Hoennese.

“Harry Potter?” they whispered, “ _The_ Harry Potter? _That’s him_?”

Haris frowned. Who was this Harry Potter? He didn’t know, but the muted songs of all those who surrounded him swelled, and he winced, struggling to block them out as he wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —call Dusk out in such an uncertain situation just to mute the songs that resounded in his mind.

As the old man stepped forward, Haris’ shoulders rose and his face tightened. He had no idea of where he was, how he had been taken, how he had gotten there, who had taken him, or how he was going to get back.

At that point, he didn’t much care for any of that, though.

Because he was going to get home. No matter what.

…but he didn’t think Grandmother, Grandfather, and Phoebe would mind _too_ much if he took a few detours along the way.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

Haris grinned as he read about the newest member of the Hoenn Elite Four. Phoebe had finally managed it, gaining her place as the second in line and the Elite Four’s Ghost Type specialist. She would be insufferable about it, poking fun at him, but he was glad for her.

It had been his older sister’s dream for years, to become acknowledged as one of the strongest Trainers in Hoenn, to prove that a specialization in Ghost Types didn’t cripple her strength. And she _had_ proven it, had destroyed all those who came to challenge her for the position, had forcefully claimed it from the previous holder of the title.

Val snickered beside him as he shook his head at the line about Phoebe using Mega Evolution—it figured. She always had enjoyed such things, and her favored Banette was clearly her Mega Evolution partner.

Haris rolled his eyes at his partner, letting her song roll across him, dimming the sounds of the already muted songs around him. The _warmthamusementmischief_ that rang across to him made him laugh, and Val snickered again.

Phoebe had finally managed to reach the pinnacle of her dream. Maybe it was time he start exploring what _he_ wanted to do?

He had always liked the traveling of the Trainer’s Journey…

**Author's Note:**

> This is another work that I've decided to cross-post over here; you can also find it on FF.net.  
> I hope you all enjoy.


End file.
